


Mislaid Plans

by triumphforks



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: Tatsuya takes up an obligation that Hiroto has adamantly rejected, while trying to move on from poor choices in his past.





	Mislaid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> This fic involves 'omiai', a Japanese form of matchmaking where participants use an intermediary to find partners that fit a certain criteria, such as occupation and class.
> 
> This is set in a timeline where Tatsuya has been formally adopted by the Kira family.

It was dark by the time he got home. Pitch black - save for the house’s grand approach, illuminated by warm lights guiding his weary feet back home. The nights were getting warmer now, and if Tatsuya cared to listen, he would have heard the soft call of crickets from the surrounding garden. But he was  _ worn _ , too busy concentrating on pulling himself up the front steps, too focused on getting to the heavy door, leaning in his whole weight to push it open, and once he was through, finally,  _ finally _ , letting himself relax. Once he was through - and the door swung shut behind him - he could  _ breathe _ . He could take off his ‘work’ face as easy as he did his jacket, stop worrying if his hair was messy, undo his tie, and walk through his own home without the fear of being called out to do something.

Today especially! Because today, the house would be empty - just what he needed. Even with a lifetime of preparing, working for the Kira company was taking some getting used to. It didn’t help that the expectations of others were being put directly on top of the ones he held for himself. It was hard now, he told himself, but it wouldn’t be forever. He’d conquer this. 

Tatsuya stretched as he walked, swinging his jacket across his shoulder as he did so. It felt  _ good  _ to be free of it _ .  _ And he meant to ride that feeling as far as it would take him. At least through to the first floor’s sitting room, over to the lounge he intended to throw himself on… 

Only to find it already occupied. 

“Oh, Tatsuya.” Hiroto looked up, surprised, stretched out on the lounge like a stray cat. “Welcome back.” 

“...Hiroto,” he said tersely. He was half tempted to throw his jacket on him. But he held himself back, folded it neatly, and with short, restrained movements, laid it over the back of the lounge instead. “What are you doing here?” 

“Dad sent me  _ this  _ -” Hiroto replied nonchalantly ( _ too much so! _ ), reaching out lazily, blindly hitting at a thick envelope lying on the nearby coffee table. “- which is all useless to me. But you know, I don’t know why, it’s so much more satisfying using the shredder in his office than anywhere else.”

Tatsuya frowned, and tensed instinctively. He knew what was in there. “He’s just worried about you,” he said, his tone still pointed.   
“It’s archaic. Stop making excuses for him.” Hiroto’s tone changed from casual to sharp, and it made Tatsuya tense more. His heart was tight, and he looked away. He wanted to defend his father - but he was so worn, so tired, his brain couldn’t find the right words to say. 

Suddenly, a jolt - something yanking at his waist, pulling him stumbling forward. He looked up to see Hiroto’s face, close. He’d been so busy thinking he hadn’t noticed the other man sneaking up... and now he was trapped. 

Hiroto had him held tight, and close, hands teasing at his lower back. 

“You know,” Hiroto said, leaning in with a sly smile. “No one else is home tonight.” His voice was low, buzzing in his ear, building on the buzz already settled in his head. He couldn’t respond, paralyzed. Hiroto leaned in closer still - a sharp inhale, and an arm wrapping even tighter around his back - but at the first brush of breath on his skin, something snapped. He leaned away, as much as he could, trying to shake himself free of the shock.

“Don’t,” he whispered, unable to look Hiroto (still firmly gripping his waist, his face still far,  _ far _ too close) in the eye.   
“Tatsuya…” Hiroto’s voice was strained. He didn’t have to look to know the expression he was making. “When are you going to act normal?”

“I  _ am _ normal,” he said firmly. “You’re the one being weird. This is going too far!” He leaned further back still, pushing against the grip Hiroto had on him. 

“ _ Tch. _ ” Hiroto clicked his tongue, loosened his grip, and let him fall out of it. 

“We’re not kids anymore,” he said sharply, busying himself with fixing his messed-up appearance. He didn’t know why, but he had the sudden need to make sure his hair was in place. “All that was just… playing around.”

“You’ve never played around in your life,” he snapped. Distance went up between them. Hiroto moved back too, erratic in how he collected himself. Suddenly things felt very cold. 

He couldn’t reply. 

Hiroto shot him one last look - partly begging, mostly accusing - before walking out, without a single word. Tatsuya couldn’t help himself. He found he was listening for his footsteps (almost straining to, with the sound muffled as it was by the thick carpet), consumed and unmoving, only to be jolted back to himself by the unmistakable slam of the front door. Without realising he had been holding his breath, and it was that noise - its finality - that shocked him back to breathing.

Somehow he felt even more tired, and even more heavy, than he had before. He sighed and sat, finally, heavily, on the lounge; burying his face in his hands, trying to knead out some of the pressure that had built up in his temples. He couldn’t let himself sink. No, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to relax, keeping all his weight on his legs, and his feet, so much that he might as well not have sat at all. 

He stayed there, with no sense of how much time passed. No matter how much he worked at it, he couldn’t relieve the still lingering tension. Eventually he gave up, gave in, and let himself fall back in to the soft hold of the lounge. If only he could keep falling, he thought, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Keep falling, and let the emptiness take him. He knew it wouldn’t. He knew his head would never be so quiet as to let that happen. It would never be empty, but he could overfill it, let distraction displace dissatisfaction; and his eyes went searching - the wall, the bookshelf, the window - until they fell on the coffee table, and the discarded envelope. 

_ He forgot it,  _ was his only thought, before continuing on his search. But his eyes kept returning to the table, and the envelope. He tried to avoid it, but it was like a black hole, drawing him in. 

Eventually he relented. Pushing himself back up off the lounge, Tatsuya reached out to pick up the envelope.  _ Heavy,  _ was his first thought. It was open, so he tugged at the paper inside. Photos. Profiles. Portraits of smiling girls, all of a certain class, all there for a specific purpose. 

He let the documents fall back in to the envelope, and he fell back to the lounge. He looked off again in to nothing, but this time he was thinking heavily.

More time passed, and he made up his mind.

In the morning, he would have to have a conversation with his father. 

* * *

Things had started off well. The restaurant was nice: windows stretching from floor to ceiling, sweeping views of the city, dimly lit, the perfect ambience. He was dressed to suit, as was the woman he was to dine with, who both dressed and carried herself in the way that only the trained upper class could. Introductions, even the part where he apologised again for not being Kira Hiroto, but Kira  _ Tatsuya _ ( _ yes,  _ it was still  _ that _ Kira), went smoothly, and flowed on easily in to the start of small-talk.

It was at some point between entree and main that things started to stall. What little conversation there was had come to a complete stop, and no matter how much he raked his brain, Tatsuya couldn’t think of any way to start it again. It was like his head was blank. Not completely, of course - but anything other than the crushing  _ awareness _ at how  _ awkward the silence was _ seemed completely beyond his reach. He was acutely aware of the girl across from him, fidgeting, not making any kind of attempts at eye contact, instead seemingly focused on folding and refolding her napkin. He himself had been pretending at picking up the last stray piece of lettuce on his plate with his fork, stabbing at it fully knowing it wouldn’t hold. Why couldn’t he think of anything? He’d never been so without words. 

Time passed, excruciatingly. Every minute of silence weighed down on him, heavy. For some reason even eye contact wasn’t coming naturally. Each time one of them looked up, the other would find something else to do; a sip of water, or adjusting their chair, or feigning interest in the view. When the food came, it was a relief.  _ Here _ was something they could talk about! Even if it was just about the food! Did it matter, when every other avenue only brought up dead air? Hobbies? Single word response. She commented on a song she’d heard on the way in -  _ that’s nice,  _ he’d replied. Did he like music?  _ Yes. _ Did he play any instruments?  _ Only the piano, poorly. _ What kind of music did he like? A sudden seizure of thought, a silence that went on too long - and that’s where that train had awkwardly ended.How could he not find the words to talk about  _ music _ ? Just make something up!

He had never considered himself bad at socialising, or bad at meeting new people. But tonight there was a tightness in his chest that held him back, that stole all the air for words, that kept his mind completely blank, completely unable to function. He had to do this, he reminded himself.  _ It’s nerves,  _ he thought, knowing fully well he wasn’t nervous.  _ It’s just awkward, you can push through this,  _ he followed, even though he couldn’t think of a single thing to make things less stilted. 

Once mains were cleared, she made a show of checking her phone. Feigned shock - suddenly something had come up, and she (graciously, regrettably) had to leave. He was hit with relief and guilt, all at once. Relief that it was over, and guilt that he was glad for it - although he suspected she was feeling the same. 

What followed passed in a blur, both of them going through the polite motions; apologies to the waitstaff, as he paid; escorting her to the entrance; waiting with her for her car to arrive. Opening the door when it did, and making polite good-bye’s. Watching as the car pulled away, knowing that he’d probably never see her again. He sighed, heavy. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been like this; something that made him feel hopeless and agitated all at once. 

Tatsuya took his time going home. The house was far, and at this time of night, the roads were quiet. When he’d got in his car he had still been agitated, desperately craving something to make him feel like it hadn’t all been a waste, that he was still doing something with purpose. But as he drove he mellowed, the feel of the long road almost meditative. By the time he pulled in to the Kira house’s driveway, he wasn’t… resolved, as such, to take this experience and find a better way forward; but he had talked himself back in to trying. He didn’t need to face it so seriously, he told himself. He could relax. That had been the problem, he’d decided; he’d been too uptight, and tense, and she could sense that. They could always sense it.

He could -  _ would - _ relax, he repeated to himself as he approached the front door. He could talk to people like he’d known them all his life. He was  _ good _ at that. 

_ If I could get Hiroto to open up- _

He stumbled. The thought had come at him without warning, and destabled whatever calm he’d been talking in to himself. He was at the door now, and he reached for the handle, gripping it hard -  _ too hard _ . His hand was  _ steady _ , he told himself, even though his own eyes said otherwise. He pushed. The entrance was dark - as was the rest of the house. It felt as big and as empty as always. He stamped heavy towards his room, resolve gone in favour of arguing with himself. This whole thing was stupid! Parading around like some rich bachelor, looking for the perfect rich wife, and for what? Because Hiroto didn’t want to? Tatsuya had made it to the top of the stairs, but barely noticed, too lost in his thoughts. He’d told himself it was for the good of the family, but was that really it? Did he really want-

There was an echoing, hollow noise. He froze, thoughts shattered. The coughing lasted longer than usual, and even by sound alone felt violent. Eventually it ended, and he found it in himself to move again - but not without a moment of hurried, worried thought, eyes fixed on the door to his father’s rooms.

_ I shouldn’t disturb him,  _ he thought, starting off again in the direction of his own room, less heavy, less frantic. How much time was left? Whatever he’d been worrying about before completely left him; he couldn’t even remember what he’d been arguing with himself about. 

He knew one thing. He wanted to do right by his father, the man who had shown him so much kindness, who had given him not just a home but a purpose. It didn’t matter how many terrible first meetings he’d have to endure, he decided. His father wanted his sons to find a future, and he would show him he could do it, before it was too late. 

Tatsuya made it to his room, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. He threw off his jacket, pulled away at his tie, made ready to go to the bed that was calling for him. He threw himself on it, heavy, letting all his breath leave him. He stared at the roof for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dark, running through the night again in his head… before scrunching up his eyes in frustration, rubbing at them in an attempt to force all the built up tension away. When he felt that was done he let his arms fall out to his sides, sighing again, before taking a deep breath. He exhaled, closing his eyes, and let sleep take him. 

When he opened his eyes the room was bright and warm, filled with golden light. It took a moment to regain his senses, wondering what it was exactly that had woken him up, but eventually it registered- something moving, towards the foot of the bed. 

(For some reason there was a thought in his mind, pervasive;  _ no, no, not this _ ).

As drowsy as his mind was, he couldn’t just leave this mystery movement (from something heavy, some kind of creature for sure) go unexplained. He pushed himself up, once his eyes had time to adjust properly to the light and he’d blinked away the last of sleep, to investigate; and saw Hiroto there, hunched, completely distracted fishing around in the pocket of the jacket he’d discarded the night before. Tatsuya smiled to himself, and decided to sneak over. 

He was surprised he managed it, crossing the bed delicately, deliberately, cringing at even the slightest of disturbance he caused with his movement. He had to be cautious, he knew. The knots in his stomach told him so. If he wasn’t, Hiroto was sure to disappear.

Eventually he made it; and when he was close enough he pounced, wrapping his arms around Hiroto’s bare torso, catching his shoulder beneath his chin, making sure he’d never be able to get away. He leaned in close and over, straining to get a glimpse of whatever it was Hiroto was doing. 

“What’s that?” He asked, sweetly. 

“Nothing,” replied Hiroto hurriedly, tensing upright, closing his hand quickly over whatever it was he’d pulled from the jacket’s pocket.

He pouted. 

“ _ Hiroto, _ ” he said, as if scolding a child. “What are you hiding?”

“ _ Nothing, _ ” he repeated, reaching back to lightly tap Tatsuya’s forehead. He huffed, unsatisfied with the response - and gave Hiroto a playful squeeze around the middle, just to let him know.

“You’re only here for two more days, and you’re already hiding things from me?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Hiroto  _ sounded _ annoyed, but he could just be embarrassed - it was hard to tell when he couldn’t see Hiroto’s face, or the telltale expression on it. It was strange. Normally he wouldn’t mind not being able to see, but right now he felt tight unease heavy in his stomach, and a faint echo in his head, almost begging him to be careful.

“I’ll be lonely,” he said, shaking off that unsettling feeling, taking the chance and keeping his voice teasing. Hiroto didn’t respond immediately, and he tensed - had he misstepped? 

The question of Hiroto leaving the Kira main house had been… touchy, to say the least, and perhaps he should have known better than to push at it. He racked his brain for an apology, but was stopped by movement; Hiroto shrugging out of his embrace, not to leave, but to turn and face him. 

His eyes were fixed downwards, his face flushed red, and both hands clenched tight. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” he mumbled, still not looking up. It was cute, somehow, and Tatsuya wanted to support him - so he reached out to hold his hand. It was difficult, with it still being curled up tight, but he did his best. “Tatsuya, I…” - A pause, for Hiroto to take a shuddering breath - “...I want you… to come with me.” Another pause, as he swallowed, before nervously glancing up. Hiroto’s shy violet eyes meet his own, and his heart skipped. 

“Hiroto…” If he’d felt anxious before, it was nothing compared to now - his stomach churning, and that faint impression of a voice in the back of his mind seemed to be almost shouting, screaming. It froze him, and he couldn’t speak. 

But it seemed he didn’t need to. Hiroto had pushed forward, eager, yet still keeping an almost respectable distance. He pulled his hand from beneath Tatsuya’s own, and held out what he’d been hiding in it.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but when they did he saw it; a ring, simple, gold, elegantly shaped without the need for any other decoration. What breath he had left him. 

The ring called to him. He fought back the instinct to reach out, to take it. 

_ Control. _ He had always told himself to be in  _ control _ . But try as he might, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the ring, or beat down the urge to take it. It was as though there was nothing else. He reached out, tentatively, fingers curling around the smooth band.  _ No, no,  _ shouted the voice in his head, but he couldn’t hear. He had to make a choice.  _ But there’s no other choice.  _ Each breath was tight. He pulled the ring free, in to his own hand, tracing its curve. He was engrossed. His mind emptied of everything else. 

Softly, gently, he felt fingers against his skin. The world dimmed, just a little, the space around him growing closer. With the lightest touch, those fingers took the ring from him, caressed his hand, turned it - and slipped the it on to his finger. He looked up, straight in to Hiroto’s eyes, only inches away. 

“Is it OK?” Hiroto whispered, as though afraid a noise any louder would scare him away.

“... Yes,” he answered. 

And no sooner was the word out that his expression broke in to an uncontainable smile. Hiroto smiled back, and it was his turn to pounce; pulling him in those last mere inches and stealing his breath away with a deep kiss.

Tatsuya closed his eyes, and for the longest moment he felt nothing but joy. This was where he was meant to be, he knew. He was meant to be in this warm embrace, with his heart pounding and his mind only concerned with the feeling of pure happiness. When he was here there was no responsibility. There was no need to anxiously think to the future, or to make sure everything he did was perfect. All he had to do was be here, in Hiroto’s arms, and he knew everything would work out as it should.

His eyes opened. The first thing that hit was the cold. Then, the dark. What little light there was shone grey - an overcast morning. He was heavy, his head aching, with a weight that almost tied him to his bed. He raised his hand up above his head, spreading his fingers so he could see them all clearly. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He already knew there was no ring.

_ Of course there’s no ring _ , he scolded himself, letting his arm fall back on the bed. He closed his eyes again, tight this time, willing himself to fall back in to that dream. It’s not how it had happened. He scrunched his eyes tighter, as though the extra effort would somehow make it real, but all it did was bring back memories of what had really happened.

Remembering how he’d recoiled.

The words he’d said, that he could never take back. 

The look on Hiroto’s face.

He’d never forget that look.

Tatsuya sighed, and gave up on trying to fall back asleep. He looked at his hand, resting next to him.

“There was no other choice,” he said to himself quietly. “Was there?”


End file.
